Sick
by Sincorah
Summary: Jim is sick, Bones is struggling with his own difficulties, Spock worries.


**Hey everyone! Not sure if this'll get much interest, but I've been really horribly sick the last couple of days, and I figured misery loves company, so have a one-shot Star Trek comfort fic! Gifted to one jlchef64, a close friend of mine who has only just begun to be drawn into the world of Fanfiction!**

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Jim Kirk was not having a good day. Between a recent Court-Martial attempt by the Federation (or more specifically, a certain admiral who seemed to hold a grudge again Jim, specifically), Bones seemingly furious for reasons Jim was not aware of, and now the Enterprise's most recent run-in with a hostile alien planet, the starship captain was more than ready to collapse into bed and sleep for as long as his extensive duties would permit.

It was with no little chagrin, then, when he awoke midway through his off-shift, stumbling desperately to reach the 'fresher. He only barely made it, before he collapsed to his knees, violently expelling the contents of his stomach into the basin. Shaking, he struggled to gather enough air into his lungs as he continued to retch. Many miserable moments later, he sat back, wiping the remaining filth from his mouth and groaning softly. He stumbled back to his bed, bringing along a spare basin in case his stomach should rebel once again.

Briefly, the captain debated contacting Bones for a remedy, but he knew the doctor didn't sleep enough as things were, and it was off-duty hours for the entire Alpha shift. Jim didn't want to risk waking his friend if there was a chance he was already asleep. Unfortunately, his pride didn't allow him to summon Chapel, or even M'Benga. Despite knowing it was foolish to suffer needlessly, he didn't want to be seen in such a weakened state by anyone, especially not his crew. Bones was different. Bones had already seen Jim at his very lowest points in his life, and inexplicably continued to stand by his side. But Bones wasn't _here_ , and Jim was miserable.

Even if he could know for certain that Bones wasn't sleeping, Jim knew he'd have hesitated to call for him anyway. McCoy had been even more prickly than usual lately, and any attempts on Jim's behalf to reach out to his oldest friend were quickly rebuffed. Jim had been going with the sound philosophy of 'Ignore the Problem until it Goes Away', but now it had been nearly a week with no great signs of improvement. If Jim could see straight through his pounding headache, shaky limbs, and roiling stomach, he might've spared more time to be worried for the doc.

Gingerly lying back down in his bed, the captain tried to fall back asleep, only to roll over and make use of the basin he had brought along almost immediately. The smell was not helping, and he grumbled softly when he got his breath back. Moaning, he rolled onto his side and curled into a ball, cursing his immune system in every language he knew.

Several hours later, little had changed, and Jim was at the end of his strength, and his patience. "Computer, contact Dr. McCoy. Tell him to come to my quarters at his earliest convenience."

Mere minutes later, Jim's door slid open, and an exhausted and strangely defeated-looking McCoy stood in the doorway. "Captain." Jim frowned, blinking blearily at his old friend, and muttered, "No, 's Jim, not 'Captain'. Not t' you Bones…" The doctor was already halfway to Jim's bedside, glaring at the clear signs of illness and the overwhelming stench. "How long have you been like this, you idiot?"

Jim mumbled, "Few hours. Di'n wanna worry you." Bones shook his head, already reaching to his side for the emergency med-kit. "That's _literally_ what I'm here for, Jim." Preparing a hypospray, the doctor swiftly administered it before kneeling to retrieve the soiled basin. "Give that a minute to kick in." McCoy took the basin to the 'fresher and disposed of the contents before returning to his friend's side.

Jim was sitting up now, visibly recovered, and clearly sheepish regarding his ill-thought-out choices of the past several hours. A quick exam conducted in silence later, McCoy made to leave, but was interrupted by Jim's "Wait! Bones-" he was cut off as he yawned widely, and then struggled to his feet. "Thanks, for everything." The doctor nodded, seeming to realize there was more the captain wished to say, and crossed his arms, waiting more or less patiently for Jim to have his say.

"You know, you're one of my closest friends. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you." McCoy nodded, but frowned at Jim in some confusion. "Yeah, I know. What's this really about?" Jim shook his head slightly, muttering under his breath, "I'm no good at talks like this" before visibly bracing himself. "What's been going on with you lately, Bones? Ever since you got that missive from home, you've seemed… Off."

Bones narrowed his eyes, and seemed to struggle within himself for a long moment, before sighing, and slumping slightly, all the light seeming to flee his eyes. "I can't explain it, Jim. I've just been feeling… lost. Empty. Depressed, for lack of a better word." Jim blinked, surprised at his normally unflappable friend, before laying a comforting hand on Bones' shoulder. "We're here for you, you know that, right Bones? No matter what. Mood swings, alien invasions, depression. Whatever the threat, I'm here for you. And you know nearly all of the crew would say the same. Even Spock, our resident 'green-blooded hobgoblin' as you so enjoy calling him, would offer any comfort and support he could for you."

Bones smiled, chuckling softly as Jim pulled him into an awkward hug. "I know, Jim. I guess I just need a reminder once in a while that, even in the vast and endless frontier of space, I'm not alone." Here, he raised an eyebrow mockingly at his friend. "Advice that _you_ would be wise to follow as well, Jim." The two shared a grin, and then yawned widely, nearly in unison.

"Get some rest, Jim. Doctor's orders."

"You get some rest too, Bones. Captain's orders."

If, on the following morning, the Captain seemed rejuvenated and far more upbeat than he had been the previous day, and the Chief Medical Officer in a much better mood than he had been for many weeks, well, who was to comment? Spock watched the doctor report to the bridge to exchange a brief conversation with the captain in person, and turned back to his station to hide a tiny smile. It was good to see both humans seemingly recovered from whatever had ailed them, and while Vulcans certainly didn't worry, Spock could admit, even if only in the privacy of his own mind, to a certain measure of relief that whatever darkness had fallen over McCoy's mind seemed to have been lifted. His Captain and the Chief Medical Officer were the closest things to friends Spock had ever had, and he hid another smile at that thought. With the two of them once again 'thick as thieves' as the ancient human saying went, the Commander knew well that any threat could be faced down and defeated.

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 **Well, that's all folks! I know it's pretty cheesy, and brief, but I can't really think straight right now, and I'm going to go try to sleep some more. I hope you enjoyed nonetheless!**


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